Desperado
by Mrs.POTO
Summary: Hilary Green is the newest and youngest member of the BAU, working alongside Garcia as a forensic accountant and digital forensics specialist. However, she didn't know that close calls with dangerous serial killers and the affections of a handsome young doctor were also part of her job description.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello and welcome to my first attempt at a Criminal Minds fic. Reid is of course my favorite, and there just doesn't seem to be enough stories about him, so I thought I'd try one out and hopefully give a different romance for him than what you've probably read before. The story will be rated T for now, but could eventually become M because there are, of course, violent killers, and there's always the potential for language and sexual situations. Plot will be a mixture of original Criminal Minds content and my own. BUT, for now, here's the introduction to my Reid/OC fanfic. I'll try to update as soon as possible. Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review! Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Desperado: in chess, a piece that is going to be captured anyway so it can "sacrifice" itself at the highest cost_

* * *

"So wait, she knew your name?" Dr. Spencer Reid questioned.

"I don't know how I could forget a face like hers," Derek Morgan explained, baffled at his earlier run-in with an unknown beautiful woman who somehow recognized him.

"You've been with so many girls, you can't remember all their names," Reid noted.

Emily Prentiss smirked. "Come on, are you surprised?"

"This has never happened to me before," Morgan insisted.

"Hasn't happened to me before, either," Reid furrowed his eyebrows, stirring his piping hot, sugary coffee.

"It can't happen to you. You have an eidetic memory," Prentiss justified, as they rounded the doorway into the meeting room.

"Besides, you only got one name to remember," Morgan joked, prompting laughter between him and Prentiss and a sarcastic chuckle and eye-roll from Reid.

As the three sat down amongst their team at the BAU, they noticed an unfamiliar face standing at the front of the table with Hotch.

"Team, I'd like to introduce you to our newest member of the BAU. This is Hilary Green. She's a forensic accountant with specializations in digital forensics and information systems, and she will be working alongside Garcia to aid with the technical analysis of our cases. Green, these are SSAs Prentiss and Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, our communications liaison, Dr. Reid, and you've met Garcia and SSA Rossi," Hotch explained, pointing out each member of the team. I allowed my eyes to follow his introduction, getting a good look at each team member and nodding in recognition. "Ms. Green his highly qualified for this position, and I expect you all to welcome her into the team. Let's get started."

I sat down in the nearest chair at the round table. There would be time for more formal, friendly introductions later, but a new case had arrived, and the expertise of the BAU was urgently needed. A pregnant Jareau stood up to relay the details.

"Okay, uh, six victims have been killed in a series of burglar-homicides all over Central California. In order: Bakersfield, Fresno, Chico, and two nights ago, Allen and Brenda Haisley is Sacramento."

I shifted in my seat, tugging nervously at my blazer as the gruesome images on the screen displayed explicitly what had happened to the victims. At just twenty-six years old, I had job experience with forensic accounting, but worked primarily with corporate crime, not homicide. When I accepted the job, I knew the horrors that would go along with it, but I had a hard time grasping how someone could be motivated to do such evil things.

"Big area, we sure it's the same unsub?" Rossi chimed in.

"His DNA was found in all the homes," Jareau confirmed, nodding.

"They hadn't connected it because he crossed jurisdictional lines," Hotchner assisted.

"The head of the Sacramento field office has a multi-agency task force, and he wants us to run point."

"Looks like we've got a lot of investigators on this one," Morgan added.

"We'll streamline it if we need to."

"You should know that, uh, they've already named him the Highway-99 Killer."

"We'll deal with that when we get there," Hotchner nodded nonchalantly, reviewing the case file.

"He targets one-to-two-person households, he kills the victims while they sleep," Jareau sighed.

My attention was shifted in the direction of Dr. Reid, speaking up for the first time. "Blunt force trauma with objects found at the home, multiple bashes to the head." He set down the file, a quizzical expression outlining his prominent facial features. Despite the morbid context of the situation, I couldn't help but notice that the young doctor was quite handsome. I'd already noted that Morgan was incredibly attractive, but there was something about Reid's disheveled, long hair and traditional-styled clothing that made him look as though he was pulled straight from a high-end fashion magazine.

"After he kills the victims, he ransacks the home for valuables."

"What's unique about this unsub is that after he kills them, apparently he sits down to dinner in their homes," Hotchner continued. The images on the screen continued to increase with gore. Hilary silently sighed in relief that her job was to connect numbers and patterns, not to deal with the human tragedy itself. "They found his DNA all in the food on the table." As the profilers continued to theorize about the unsub, I sat observantly, carefully watching each and every member of the team. Patterns were, in fact, my specialty. I noticed them in numbers and, in this case, people.

My mind zoned back into focus at the sound of Hotchner's authoritative command. "Garcia, take Green to your office to familiarize her with the technology. Everyone else, wheels up in thirty." It was obvious that the true team introduction would indeed have to wait.

Penelope Garcia, whom I'd briefly met a few days ago, headed my way, taking hold of my arm without a moment's hesitation. "You have no idea how excited I am to have you working with me. They never let me tag along," she poked out her bottom lip in a sarcastic pout. The members of the BAU began to file out of the room, Garcia and I following in a different direction. "Come on, my little golden ray of sunshine. I will show you the real brains behind this operation."

* * *

"Welcome to Mama's lair," Garcia announced as she thrust open a door to reveal a dark room, consisting of a single rolling chair, a computer system, and over a dozen monitors. It was obvious that Garcia had made the space her own. Like her unique fashion sense, the room was decorated with various trinkets, splashes of bright pink and yellow, glitter, and pictures of baby animals spaced throughout. "Hm," she thought, glancing at the one and only chair in the room. "You sit here, and I'll be right back." I took this brief time to further examine the room. The computer system was intricate, far more advanced than what I was used to working with. A photo encased in a bedazzled purple frame was placed next to the mouse. It displayed the entire team I'd met earlier, dressed in unprofessional clothing and laughing, contrasting the serious expressions I'd initially been introduced to. This photo revealed something that was undetectable in the conference room. They were like a family. I didn't know how the members of the BAU would welcome my entrance into their workforce, but seeing the close bond made me realize how much I missed my own family, the family I left six hundred miles away to take this job.

"Here we are." Garcia rolled in a chair, and plopped into it, scooting closer to the computer keyboard, her elaborate jewelry jingling with her every movement. "So, Ms. Green, tell me about yourself."

"Well I..," I began, unsure of where to start.

"Of course, I already know all about you," she winked. "I did do a little research, couldn't help myself." Garcia motioned to the many monitors. She'd looked me up, no doubt. I smirked. She was definitely a character, but her intentions were seemingly sincere, and we'd be spending a lot of time together, so she was my best bet for a new friend in Quantico.

"Well," I giggled. "I'm not sure where to begin, so what don't you know?" I quizzed sarcastically.

"Oh baby, I know everything, but I like the conversation."

"Okay," I began, tucking a strand of honey-colored hair behind my ear and adjusting my black framed glasses. "I'm from Atlanta. I graduated Emory and got my CPA, interned and worked a while there at a firm investigating corporate crime, and then got the job here. I have an older sister and a three year-old nephew, whom I miss very, very much already." I paused. "That's about it, I guess," shrugging my shoulders. "Oh, and please just call me Hilary or Hil. I hate formalities," I added, making it clear that I definitely did not want to be addressed as 'Ms.'  
"So what about you?"

"Trust me, you'll find out plenty in no time with how much we'll be in here together in here." She shook the mouse, adjusted her bright pink glasses, and quickly typed in a code to unlock the computer. "But I can fill you in on the team." I nodded with interest. "Okay, so you know Hotch. No, he doesn't ever smile at work, but never fear, he isn't as scary as he appears. You also know Rossi, super cool guy. If you want to get on his good side, just ask about his carbonara; it's a win win for both of you because it is de-licious. Then there's Jennifer Jareau, call her JJ, and Emily Prentiss, the BAU's beautiful badasses. Oh!" she exclaimed. "We should all have a girls' night soon when everyone gets back. We all usually go out together, but then men can do their own thing for once," Garcia laughed, clapping at her idea.

I smiled. Garcia was attempting to accept me into the team, so I was hopeful about the others. "If there's wine, I'll be there."

"Oh honey, it wouldn't be a girls' night without it. There will be plenty. Where was I, oh. Morgan is my delectable chocolate chunk," she insinuated with a grin and wriggle of her eyebrows. "And finally our own little genius boy wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid," she finished with a nudge and.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I giggled, noticing her sudden intense observation of my appearance.

"Because, my fair golden beauty, you are now the BAU's other young smarty-pants."

I rolled my eyes and exhaled a chuckle. "I'm definitely not a genius, Garcia."

"You finished top of your class with joint degrees and a minor at one of the most competitive schools in the country, dear. You might not have an IQ of 187, but you could keep up with him better than any of the rest of us can. And who knows, maybe you could even get him to shut up for once, if you know what I mean," she joked suggestively.

"Garcia, I have been here for less than two hours, and you're already trying to set me up," I laughed. This wasn't the first time someone had found a 'perfect match' for me. Dating was not my specialty, but everyone I knew sure tried to force it on me.

"Fine, fine," she raised her hands innocently in surrender. "No match-making..for now." She winked again. "Here, I'll show you how to use everything, and then we can start digging. The sooner we catch this guy, the closer we are to popping corks."

* * *

 **So that's the first chapter! Future chapters will get longer from now on, but I just wanted to get the introduction out. This story begins in season 4. Please review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Garcia, what do you think about this?" I spoke up. For a few days now, we'd been scanning as much material about the murders as we could: victim information, location; every detail that could potentially be crucial was thoroughly analyzed. She looked away from one of the monitors and directed her attention to me. "All the areas targeted by the unsub are made up of farmlands, and in every city he's killed, there's been an increase in sales of a specific crop. Apples, tomatoes, and fall squash have all peaked in sales at the exact places and times of the murders."

"Good job, kid," she grinned proudly. "We can call this in." Garcia rapidly pressed a few keys on the keyboard, calling the other members of the BAU located on-sight.

After just a few rings, "Hello?" a voice on the other end of the line answered. Dr. Reid, I assumed.

"Hello, my darling. We've found something for you," Garcia announced.

"What is it Garcia?" a woman asked. I could tell the voice didn't belong to JJ, so it had to be Prentiss.

"The BAU's newest and cutest noticed that in the cities, including the new ones we've discovered, there is a spike in the sales of certain crops during the time the unsub is there." She relayed.

I looked to the figures on the monitor and read off the crop sales: "Last week of August, apples in Tehachapi; first week of September, tomatoes in Bakersfield; second week of September, fall squash in Fresno."

"So he's in town for a big harvest," Prentiss assessed.

"The unsub, riding trains town to town during big harvests who doesn't have a car or permanent residence," Reid continued.

Prentiss concluded, "Migrant farmworker."

"Thanks Garcia."

"Good work, Green."

The click of the phone hanging up on the other end of the line sounded, and I smiled to myself in satisfaction that I had been of some use to this case. Most of my first few days so far had consisted of Garcia deciding what to check and handing it off to me as a second pair of eyes to get the job done quicker. Garcia and I continued to expand on the migrant worker theory, researching camps in the surrounding areas that provided housing and special IDs to the workers.

"Coffee?" I asked in a yawn. Staring at computer screens for hours at a time had a way of tiring my eyes more quickly than usual.

"Always," she agreed, handing me an elaborate teal mug that was decorated with polka dots and kittens.  
The first thing I took note of upon my arrival at the BAU was the proximity of all close coffee stations. To say that I had a caffeine dependency would be an understatement. "Cream and sugar please," she smiled as I rounded the doorway to retrieve our two coffees. I filled her mug, supplying it with a generous amount of hazelnut creamer and sugar and poured my own, black, into a styrofoam cup, topping it with a plastic lid.

I returned quickly to Garcia hanging up from another phone conference with the team and cross-referencing names in databases. "Here you are," I said, handing her the cup of piping hot liquid energy.

"Thank you," she replied in her characteristic singsong tone.

* * *

By the next morning, unsub was caught and shot, and this case was complete. The team was scheduled to arrive back at the BAU any moment now.  
A light knock on the door signaled the entrance of JJ and another woman. "Garcia, Green," she began. "I wanted to introduce you to Agent Jordan Todd; she'll be taking over for me while I'm on maternity leave."

"Nice to meet you both," Todd smiled charismatically.

"We're starting her training now," JJ explained, placing two gentle hands on her very pregnant belly, as they headed to her office.

Garcia grabbed her large handbag and adjusted her glasses. "We are free to go, my dear." I logged off the computer system, turned off the monitors, and collected my things, following her outside into the hub of the BAU toward the elevators.

"So do you guys have plans tonight?" Reid's voice echoed through the empty hallway, multiple sets of footsteps complementing the sounds resonating through the hall. Dr. Reid, Morgan, and Prentiss a decent distance ahead of Garcia and I, also making their way to the elevator.

"I was thinking about getting a burger," Morgan responded.

"Oh I could eat," Prentiss chimed in as they approached the closed elevator doors, and pressing the down button for entrance. As they stopped to wait, Garcia and I approached quickly behind.

"Oh, hi!" Prentiss exclaimed, smiling warmly and offering her hand for a handshake. "I'm Emily. I know we really didn't get to meet formally before, but it's great having you here. How was your first case?" Her introduction came with purse sincerity that further assured me about working with the team.

The elevator dinged on arrival, doors opened, and we stepped in, packing in closely within the confines of the walls. "It was..interesting. These aren't exactly the types of criminals I'm used to dealing with," I admitted.

"You know, we were thinking about going for a burger," Morgan chimed in, sending a charming wink my way. "I know Garcia will be in, how 'bout you, Green?"

I noticed Dr. Reid shifting in place. "Yeah, you should, uh, definitely come eat..you know, if you're going to be hungry later. Or if you're not, that's.."

"Oh, she's coming, and I'm not taking no for an answer," Garcia resolved, saving Dr. Reid from his awkward attempt at conversation with a stranger.

"Yeah, I'll be there," I laughed, happy to receive the genuine invitation. "I haven't had a lot of time to stock up on groceries, so I'll definitely be hungry," I stated, looking to Reid with assurance. From what Garcia had said about him, he was an absolute genius, but his social skills were clearly subpar.

The elevator doors opened at the arrival to the first floor. Everyone stepped out, exiting the front doors, and headed their own separate directions in the parking lot. "I'll send you the address!" Garcia called. "We're going to Al's. It's the best 24-hour-diner-burger you'll ever eat!" I sent her a thumbs up and waved to Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid. It was early afternoon, so I had plenty of time to change from my professional attire and unpack more of my things, something I'd been putting off doing since I'd arrived in Quantico.

* * *

My apartment was charming and quaint. It was tiny, barely enough room for one person, but it had character that came with its age and the rent was more than affordable. A brick fireplace was the focal point of the living room. My furniture and a few books were all that was officially unpacked and in place. Boxes lined the floors in the kitchen and bedroom. I started in the kitchen, attacking each box one by one and placing utensils, pots, pans, dining ware, and cups in their corresponding drawer or cabinet. As much as I hated it, I'd been surviving off of microwavable dinners for the past few nights, and I was excited to start cooking again. My phone buzzed from a text.

Penelope Garcia: _Al's at 7!_

The buzz of a second text listed the complete address. By now it was already 4:30, so I went to my room to get ready. My bedroom floor was covered in boxes. The only clothes I'd bothered to unpack were blazers, blouses, skirts, and trousers that were acceptable for work. Garcia may have worn her own style everyday to work, but I was definitely too new at the BAU to go in casual. I finally came upon a box that contained clothes acceptable for tonight, and I decided on light-washed skinny jeans, a fitted, teal-colored scoop-neck shirt, and a pair of black converse. Looking in the mirror, the curl in my hair from this morning now fell in blonde waves that drifted loosely past my shoulders. My makeup still looked decent, so I exchanged my glasses for contacts and reapplied a neutral lipstick. After grabbing my purse, I was out the door.

Al's was a 24-hour restaurant that had that 50's diner feel to it. Inside, Morgan and Garcia were already sitting in an oversized booth, and I joined them.  
"Hey kid!" Morgan greeted, flashing radiantly white teeth.

"Hey guys," I smiled. Garcia handed me an extra menu, and my attention was diverted immediately. "I'm starving," I admitted. "What's good here?"

"Well personally, I always get the Bacon Mountain Burger." Garcia pointed to a photo on the menu of a ginormous burger overflowing with cheese and bacon. "But my chocolate lava cake over here gets an omelette with hash browns."

"Oh, they have biscuits and gravy!" I noticed. Morgan and Garcia both gave me a strange look. "I'm from Atlanta, remember?" I giggled.

"If you're from the South, _ma'am,_ then where's your accent?" Morgan joked.

Before I could retort, Emily arrived and took a seat next to Morgan, and Reid followed not far behind. I noticed that everyone had changed from their work attire into something more casual. Even Garcia had exchanged her bright dress for a bright blouse and jeans. But, Dr. Reid was still in slacks and a sweater vest, but with converse. He truly did look like something from a fashion magazine.  
The waitress quickly approached to take our orders; I decided on the biscuits and gravy and a cup of black coffee.

"So, Reid, how does it feel to not be the baby here anymore," Morgan jabbed, laughing at his own joke.

"Yeah, yeah," Dr. Reid rolled his eyes, clearly used to the back and forth torment from Morgan.

"Hilary, from what Garcia says, you sound like a bit of a genius yourself," Emily said.

"Oh, I'm definitely not a genius," I deflected. Sure, I'd made excellent grades throughout college and have gotten opportunities most people my age haven't, but sitting across from a literal genius made my accomplishments seem a little ridiculous.

"Although I don't believe that intelligence can be scientifically quantified," Reid began, "IQs of 140 and over are considered to be 'genius,'" he stated, using his fingers as air quotes. "Sixty-eight percent of people have an IQ that falls somewhere within fifteen points of 100, making it the average intelligence level. Stephen Hawking and Albert Einstein were both said to have IQs of 160, and given your grades, test scores, and success at Emory, it's likely that your IQ falls somewhere between 120 to 130, putting you in the 'gifted' region."

I blinked in disbelief and took a sip of my coffee. "Does this happen a lot?" I questioned, still in awe of Reid's knowledge and ability to pull random facts out of nowhere.

"You have no idea," Emily shrugged.

"So do you just know everything, Dr. Reid?" I bantered.

"Not technically. I do, however, know everything I've ever read. I have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute," his closed mouth formed a cheesy, childish grin.

"Don't forget the IQ of 187," Morgan rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Wait, so you're smarter than Einstein?" I blinked.

"Not smarter," he paused. "Just more intelligent." There was no shift in his tone, no jokes. He truly was one of the most intelligent human beings to ever exist, apparently. "Oh, and just call me Spencer." His closed mouth formed a smile once again.

"Okay, Spencer," I giggled.

* * *

 **Okay, that's it for Chapter 2! Keep reading for Chapter 3, and don't forget to review, favorite, and follow. Thanks to those who already have!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, here is chapter 3! Sorry it took a little longer to update than I had planned. I've had so much going on this week! Anyways, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed the story so far. I hope you're enjoying it and will continue to enjoy it as the story progresses. Heads up on this chapter: I usually write in first person POV, but there is a brief switch to third person in this chapter, and I will do that occasionally as the story goes on. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!**

* * *

The next few days consisted of filling out paperwork, reading reports, and filing paperwork appropriately. JJ hadn't deemed another case as a top priority yet, so things around the BAU were relatively calm, allowing for the more tedious office jobs to be completed. This lax period allowed for further bonding with the team. So far, they had been welcoming enough. I was clearly the newbie, an outsider to their close-knit work family, but it was clear that they were making an effort to include me as much as possible.

"So how 'bout girls' night?" Garcia suggested, approaching my desk. "Tonight. The team's all here, and a Cosmopolitan is calling my name. You, me, Prentiss, and, well, JJ can have water."

I looked up from my laptop to see an eager Garcia, smiling widely. Tomorrow was Saturday, and since the team currently wasn't hunting down an unsub, the weekend would be predictably uninteresting. "Sure," I agreed, closing my laptop. "The first round is on me."

"Drinks?" Morgan overheard as he made his way by.

"Oh no, Derek Morgan. You are not crashing our girls's night out," Garcia insisted. She wasn't joking, but it was almost impossible to take her seriously.

"Come on, Garcia. He can join us if he wants," I volunteered. Derek flashed a triumphant smile. "Besides, it's not like he'll be bothering us; he'll probably be giving his number to every woman at the bar." I winked at Garcia, who released a giggle and sent a sarcastic smile in Morgan's direction. He returned an expression of sardonic disbelief and offense.

Eventually everyone at the BAU found out we were going for drinks and all decided to come along, which was more than fine with me. "Okay my dear, we will pick you up at 8," Penelope proposed excitedly. "JJ will DD, so you don't have to worry about getting home. Oh, and wear something hot." She winked suggestively.

* * *

Once I got home from work, I reheated leftovers from the fridge. My apartment was finally completely furnished; all boxes were unpacked, and things were put together. I placed my food at my kitchen table, bowl of noodles steaming from the microwave, and poured myself a glass of water. I hadn't drank much other than wine after college, and I had a feeling that even just a few drinks would guarantee headaches and nausea for tomorrow.  
When my bowl was empty, I dashed to the bathroom to take a quick shower before getting ready. The scalding water cleared my mind and relaxed me. I had approximately 2 hours to do my hair, makeup, and get dressed before they would arrive to pick me up, so I cut my shower short and began my routine. I decided to dramatize my makeup a little more than usual: focusing on longer, darker lashes and a darker shade of lipstick that contrasted my porcelain skin. My hair fell in long, blonde natural waves, so I used a wand to emphasize them slightly before getting dressed. I definitely wanted to feel pretty; it wasn't often that I had the opportunity to go out, but my barhopping wardrobe selection was lacking.  
I decided on a long-sleeved fitted, black top with a plunging neckline that revealed just enough without being too promiscuous, dark skinny jeans that hugged firmly and accentuated the right areas, and heeled black booties. I accessorized with a few pieces of silver jewelry and glanced in the mirror one last time. Garcia had told me to look 'hot,' and for the first time in a while I definitely did; my outfit flattered my lean frame. Satisfied with my appearance, I grabbed my purse and waited on JJ's arrival to pick me up, which came shortly.

"Damn, Mama's lookin' good," Garcia called as I stepped into JJ's car.

"Thanks," I beamed with laughter. It was just Prentiss, Garcia, and I riding with JJ. The rest of the team, I assumed, would be meeting us at the bar. "Y'all look great too!" They truly did, dressed a little more over-the-top than what was required for work. Even JJ, who looked as though she could go into labor at any moment, looked gorgeous with freshly done hair and makeup.

JJ turned up the radio, and we sped off to the bar. It was a small joint hidden in an alleyway near the hub of D.C.  
As we stepped inside, I silently sighed in relief that it wasn't a club atmosphere. Back in college, my girl friends loved to drag me to the clubs every weekend; the loud music, dancing, and groping men were more their style, but I much preferred less crowded, quiet bars where I could enjoy my drinks in peace. The bar was dimly lit, with groups of people sitting around at tables. A guitarist stood onstage and sang covers of 70s music. Several dart boards adorned the walls, as well as a single pool table on the opposite end of the room. It was a simple joint, but the drink menu looked extensive, and the team supposedly frequented it often. We were the first to arrive, so we found a high-top table and sat to wait for the rest of the team.

"I don't know about you ladies, but I'm ready to drink, and the first round is on me!" I announced. "What does everyone want?"

"Oh baby, you know I want a Cosmo," Penelope said.

"I'll just take a glass of Chardonnay," Emily smiled.

I ordered their drinks, a glass of water for JJ, and a margarita for myself. Once the bartender had made every drink and accepted payment, I returned to the table, taking a sip of my margarita. After only one sip, I felt the booziness of the tequila.

"So when are you due, JJ?" I asked curiously. Every since my nephew was born, I'd been going through a several-year baby fever, and I loved kids.

"I've only got about six-and-a-half weeks left," she grinned brightly, prompting the squeals of Prentiss and Garcia. As a pregnant woman, she truly glowed, and I couldn't help but hope that I could be lucky enough to have the same luck someday.

"It's getting so real," Emily stated happily.

"Boy or girl?"

JJ looked down admirably at her protruding belly, gently placing both hands on it. "Boy," she confirmed. "His name's Henry."

"I'm so excited for you," I said sincerely.

With another sip of my drink, the rest of the team arrived, pulling up enough chairs for everyone of fit at our table. Hotch and Rossi were surprisingly casual, seemingly more relaxed than I'd seen them in the workplace. Morgan was dressed similarly to how he looked the other night when we went out for burgers, and Spencer was in his characteristic sweater, slacks, and converse.

"I see you've started without us," Rossi joked with sarcastic offense, motioning to our drinks on the table.  
Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan all ventured to the bar, but Spencer took a seat across from me next to JJ.

"No booze tonight?" Emily prodded.

"No, I'm, uh, attending a conference on condensed matter physics tomorrow, and I have to be up early." I raised an eyebrow, at a loss for words at his interest in topics I couldn't begin to understand. I was smart, sure, but the sciences were not my specialty. "I can get an extra ticket if anyone wants to go," he offered with great enthusiasm. "There will be speakers from six countries discussing various theories on.."

"As fun as that sounds," Garcia cut him off, "I think I'll stick with the booze."

The rest of the men returned with their beverages: Hotch and Rossi with glasses of scotch and Morgan with a beer.

"What did we miss?" Morgan asked. Sipping on my drink, I now reached the bottom of the glass.

"Spencer has an extra ticket to a physics conference if you want to go," I suggested playfully, knowing without a doubt that Morgan would be the last person at the table willing to attend such a thing.

"Kid, here," Rossi said, handing Spencer a glass of neat scotch. "Have a drink, and talk about something a little more..bar-friendly." This triggered a few laughs from the table, and Spencer took the glass and an unwanted swig, silencing himself from any further physics conversation. Every time someone shut up one of his babbling outbursts, his expression would fill with embarrassment just briefly.  
It was fascinating to see his mind at work and the academic phenomenon that interested him, but his genius was more than a little overwhelming.

JJ stood up. "I'm going to use the ladies' room," she announced.

"I'll come with you." I wanted to touch up my lipstick and freshen up in the bathroom, so we made our way to the restrooms located at the back corner of the bar.

* * *

Spencer found his gaze unintentionally and intently following Hilary's pathway across the bar. Her outfit truly did compliment her lean, yet generously curved, body.

"Reid," Hotch spoke up. "Perhaps gawking at young women from behind isn't exactly the best way to get their attention." His tone was characteristically serious, but his eyes were joking.

"What's that?" Spencer said, diverting his attention back to his co-workers at the bar table and snapping out of his momentary lapse.

"Just like that," Emily snapped her fingers. "IQ of 187 is slashed to 60."

Garcia gasped. "You think she's pretty!" she squealed in excitement. "I knew this would happen."

"Could you maybe keep your voices down?" Spencer demanded anxiously. His voice was a few octaves higher than normal, and the whole team couldn't help but chuckle at his frustrations. "People we view as conventionally attractive generally exhibit biological indicators that suggest they would be ideal candidates for primal mating to continue nature's processes," he babbled in attempt to justify himself. "Most males would share the exact same reaction."

"But you see," Prentiss continued, "you aren't most males," putting 'most males' in air quotes. "And she is pretty and smart."

"I say go for it, man," Morgan assured, with a flashing white smile. "I'd say she definitely cringes the least out of all of us when you start with the statistics."

"Although, maybe you should use a conversation starter other than physics conferences," Rossi suggested, taking another gulp of scotch.

Hilary and JJ reappeared from the restroom, walking back to the table.

"Okay, okay," Spencer submitted hastily. "Can we just drop it, please?" he insisted, mid-blush.

* * *

 **Okay so that's it for the third chapter! I hope you like it so far and continue to read. Don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you think. I really do love the feedback! An update** **should be coming soon with the next investigations at the BAU, and of course, the build up to a friendship/relationship between Hilary and Spencer! xoxo**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the late update. I'd planned to be much quicker with my chapters but I had another super busy week and lost a little bit of motivation. So to make up for it, here's a super long chapter! Don't forget to review, favorite, and follow. Thanks for reading!**

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Several weeks had passed along with several intense cases, local and national, that unfortunately left me looking over my shoulder a little too frequently. I'd taken up a fascination with serial killers, reading non-fiction accounts and watching documentaries of the most legendary murderers to gain a better understanding of what we were dealing with. I wasn't a profiler; I was an accountant for god's sake. I didn't realize how emotionally draining the job would be when I accepted the position, but the reality of such evils left me curious and paranoid all at the same time.  
The majority of my time was invested in the job. With my new gained experience and routine, Garcia and I divided the work. She focused on all necessary hacking while I delved deep into the lives of victims and suspects: their financial statuses, recent purchases, and every analyzable paper trail.

JJ was currently on maternity leave; Henry was a beautiful baby. We visited him as frequently as the BAU would allow, but for now Agent Todd served as the communications liaison.  
The team sat round the table as Todd presented the facts of our current brutal case.

"Vanessa Holden," she introduced. A young blonde woman's photo flashed on the screen. "Age 25. Last Friday night, she was clubbing with her sister. A stranger, white male, roughly her age picked her up. They left the club at 1 AM, went back to her place, and forced her on her hands and knees," Todd said, circling the table. "And then, he cut her open." The screen displayed disturbing photographs of the victim's body, bloodied and sprawled out onto the floor. "Just below the stomach."

"Whoa," Morgan ejected.

"Yeah, pretty rough," Rossi agreed.

I cringed at the sight on the screen. Several weeks on the job still hadn't desensitized me to the explicit imagery.

"Gutting causes the intestines to spill out," Spencer began. "You can survive a few hours, actually. Even days." His tone was solemn.

Todd continued, "Post-mortem indicates that he slit her throat at 5 AM."

"So he disemboweled her, didn't kill her for four hours," Rossi noted.

"Could be a sexual sadist," Prentiss offered.

"Yeah, I thought so too, but I found two priors from a year ago," Todd explained, distributing file folders of information, "prostitutes actually, in motel rooms."

"Okay, keep running with it," Morgan encouraged. "Why do you think this is the same unsub?"

Todd opened more images on the screen, "At Vanessa Holden's apartment, the following were discovered: bleach, ammonia, and trash bags all in a triangular pattern. One year ago, motel rooms: bleach, ammonia, trash bags, also in a triangular pattern."

"He's cleaning up," I spoke up.

"Maybe trying to cover his tracks," Morgan brainstormed.

"Could be a sign of remorse," Spencer suggested.

"Apologizing for the murder by minimizing the mess," Rossi explained.

"But there's one other commonality between both sets of murders," Todd resumed. "Bleach and ammonia were found underneath the victim's fingernails." She crossed her arms.

"He's making them clean up their own murder," Prentiss frowned.

Hotch confirmed: "It's the same unsub. Wheels up in two hours." We all stood up to exit the room. "Agent Green," Hotch called. I turned slowly, unsure of what he could have to say.

"Sir?" I asked.

"I want you to prepare a go-bag and accompany us on sight for this case," he explained seriously.

"I'm sorry, what?" I raised an eyebrow curiously, taken aback by his request.

"This unsub is attacking young women in Atlanta. I know you're familiar with the area, and I believe you could be an asset in the field for this case." I was speechless. I didn't see how I could possibly be an asset in the field. I don't have a gun; hell, I don't even know how to use a gun!  
Hotch must've been able to see the confusion in my expression. He continued: "Your analytical skills have proven very useful to this team. You'll be working mostly through digital communication with Garcia as usual, but I want you to gain some experience working with the victim's family and with potential suspects."

I inhaled sharply. "Okay, sir," I said with a nod. "I'll meet you all on the jet." With that I rushed home to pack a bag and hurry back to the BAU in time for departure. To say I was nervous was an understatement.

* * *

I took a seat by Morgan in the jet. The entire team, except for Hotch, either looked shocked or confused at my arrival. Garcia rarely joined the team on cases that weren't local, and I certainly never had. I offered a quick closed-mouthed smile to the team before Todd handed us all more file folders of case info. The flight to Atlanta wouldn't take too long, so this time was apparently used to prepare for what would be done once we arrived at the station.

"So when the unsub changed victimology, does that make him organized or disorganized?" Prentiss inquired.

"Well, prostitutes point one way, club goes another," Morgan shrugged.

Spencer furrowed his brows, glaring intently at the crime scene photos. "The triangular arrangement of the cleaning supplies is interesting," he noticed.

"Obsessive compulsive," Hotch concluded.

"Might've been institutionalized," Prentiss suggested.

Rossi spoke up. "We're missing the forest for the trees here. This guy started with prostitutes, a high-risk victimology. Took a year off, came back, killed a socialite."

I didn't really understand the behavioral patterns of killers and how to profile them, but from what I'd learned, serial killers rarely changed their victimology or signature.

"No forced entry, no coercion of any kind."

"Exactly, so how does our unsub go from loser-of-the-year to Don Juan?" Rossi asked.

Spencer's eyes lit up, ready to give some sort of educated explanation. "Actually, as Byron interpreted him, Don Juan was an ironic reversal of sex roles." The team all exchanged annoyed looks. "And when.." Reid paused at Hotch's stern expression. He nodded nervously and cleared his throat, "That's about it." I released a laugh and gave Spencer a knowing look, to which he returned with a sheepish grin.

"Something must've happened between the last prostitute and Vanessa Holden to make him change his victimology," Hotch stated, returning the topic of conversation to the unsub.

"Could the unsub have known Vanessa?" Todd questioned.

The team brainstormed with theories about the unsub for the next hour until the jet landed in Atlanta. Before we arrived at the station, Hotch assigned tasks for each of us. "Reid and Green, work up a geographic profile. Focus on the location of the murders. Prentiss and Rossi, concentrate on prostitutes. Jordan, Morgan, and I, we'll go deal with Vanessa Holden."

Once we got to Atlanta Metro PD, we met with the lead detective of the case, setting up our own headquarters. "Detective Harding."

"Hi," Harding smiled.

"Agent Todd," she extended her arm for a handshake.

"Thank you for coming."

"SSAs Hotchner, Morgan, Dr. Reid, and digital forensics expert Green," Todd introduced. Rossi and Prentiss were already in the field, and I had a feeling I'd be spending most of my time at the station, which was more than fine with me.

"Hi, how are ya?" Detective Harding asked in formality.

"Good, is there a DNA match between the unsub and the prostitutes? We can run it through ViCAP just in case." Spencer suggested.

Harding sighed. "Uh, there's no DNA at all." She shook her head, "No prints, no fibers. Just like Vanessa, everything gets cleaned up."

"That's a good forensic counter-measure."

"What about witnesses? Somebody must've seen something?" Hotch prodded.

"Oh yeah, lots of people," the detective confirmed.

"So you have a sketch?"

Harding reached into a file folder and pulled out a less-than detailed sketch of a man, handing it to Morgan.

"It's a little vague," Reid noticed, analyzing it intently.

"That's because of this guy's other counter-measure," she explained. "Take a look." Security camera footage from the night club played on a screen. "So this guy right here," she pointed, "is our killer."

"Looks like a fedora," I observed. From the video, no recognizable facial features could be seen.

"So he's drawing attention to his face, while simultaneously obscuring it."

"It's called peacocking," Spencer began. "The adornment of some sort of flashy affect to sort of try to distract witnesses."

"So none of your witness statements agree."

Harding looked into the file. "He had a mole, he didn't have a mole. He had a gap between his teeth, no his teeth were perfect." She closed the file.

Todd spoke up. "Detective, we're gonna have to have a sit-down with Ashley Holden. She got the best look at the unsub."

"I wish I could make that happen, but unfortunately the family has decided to stop cooperating."

"Why's that?" Hotch asked seriously.

"They wouldn't say," she shrugged. "Yesterday, the mother would move heaven and earth to help find her daughter's killer. Today, no thanks."

"I'll take care of this," Todd assured, dialing Garcia.

"Where can I set up?" I asked Detective Harding.

"This way," she instructed, leading Reid and I to an empty room with a white board. The white board had pinned details of the crimes, along with several scribbled ideas attempting to determine the killer. I opened my laptop and connected to the station's network, immediately working on any overlapping connection between the victims I could find.  
Spencer stood in front of the white board, making notations every once in a while: symbols and jumbled notes flowing across the board.

"There doesn't look like there's any connection between the victims whatsoever," I sighed, standing up and heading to the coffee pot by the door. I poured the dark liquid into a paper cup and sat back down at my computer. "Different facial features, different socioeconomic status, and based on their recent credit card records and checking account statements, they never even shopped in the same locations. These women probably would never have crossed paths for any reason."

"The unsub killed the prostitutes in separate pay-by-the-hour motels in Fulton County, one of the poorer neighborhoods in the area," Spencer pointed to labeled dots on the map.

"Girls like Vanessa would never be found in that area," I concurred. The residents of Atlanta and its surrounding suburbs varied greatly in economic class, and those with money rarely ventured to the destitute regions.

"Yeah, Vanessa Holden's apartment was in the Peachtree district, a lot of big money. Based on the geography, he isn't just changing his victimology. He's changing his whole tax bracket," he affirmed.

"So their finances are useless," I submitted, shutting my laptop with defeat and taking a sip of the piping hot coffee.

"We'll know more once the rest of the team gets back," he assured, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He stood at the coffee station a little too long, dumping sugar packet after sugar packet into his drink. I turned around to stare at him quizzically, and eventually he noticed my judgmental stare.

"Easy there, genius," I warned, glancing back and forth between him and his coffee that was overloaded with sugar. He stared back and self-consciously poured the rest of the packet of sugar into his drink, stirring it quickly and sitting down next to me.

"You know, the average American consumes around 3,500 pounds of sugar in their lifetime," he began on one of his statistical rants.

"I'd say you're probably above average then," I interrupted, smirking with a sip of my own unsweetened coffee and sending him a playful wink.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and cleared his throat. "Um, yeah, I uh..yeah."

I reopened my laptop and continued searching, looking for anything that could be remotely useful. So far, I was at a dead end.

Then, Hotch entered swiftly with Morgan and Todd on his heels. "There's been another murder," he announced. "We need to take a look at the crime scene. Rossi and Prentiss are already there." With little explanation, he turned to exit the room and we followed. _Crime scene?_ I thought. This was just getting better and better.  
Black SUVs waited for us outside of the station, and we split up: Hotch and Todd in one and Morgan, Reid, and I in the other.

We buckled up, and Morgan sped off quickly. "Hey kid, why are you coming to the crime scene?" Morgan asked with a raised brow.

I shrugged innocently. "Hotch wants me to 'gain experience in the field.'" I explained with air quotes. I wrinkled my nose, thinking about what I could possibly see at the scene, hoping it would somehow be less gruesome than the previous photos. "But I'd rather just observe through my computer screen."

* * *

A pool of blood settled on the side walk, complemented by the appropriate blood spatter. The victim had been thrown, or jumped, off the balcony from several stories up.

"Well, preliminary autopsy came back. The victim's name was Becky Williams," Morgan relayed.

"Was she disemboweled?" Rossi asked, hovering over the stained concrete.

"No, and what's even weirder is that the cleaning supplies were set out but there was no trace of them on her body."

"Why would the unsub alter his signature and push her out of an eight story window?" Reid inquired.

All I could do was cringe at the sight in front of me; I kept my distance from the splatter, imagining how the situation could've played out.

"Gutting and cleaning are what he has to do to find release. He wouldn't change that," Rossi stated.

"He's changed everything else about himself," I noted. I was no expert on sexual sadists, but he definitely didn't seem to follow the pattern they were trying to fit him into.

"Did anybody see the unsub?" Spencer asked.

Morgan shook his head. "No security cameras at the club. Becky's friends say she was talking to a guy with sunglasses."

"Sunglasses?" It was obvious Reid's mind was trailing off somewhere in great thought.

"How you holdin' up, kid?" Rossi asked sincerely, placing an assuring hand on my shoulder.

I took another step back from Becky's unfortunate remaining pool of blood. "Um, I might be sick," I answered honestly, clutching my blazer closer to my body. I'd thought I had a strong stomach before joining this job, but now I felt like I could lose my last meal at any minute.

"What you're feeling is actually very normal," Spencer began. "The sight of blood for many people can trigger a drop in heart rate and blood pressure that causes them to feel faint and in some cases actually pass out, so.." Rossi shot him a glare. Reid caught on immediately. "So, yeah, totally normal." He rushed to conclude his factual explanation and offered a weak smile.

"I just hope Hotch doesn't plan on making this a regular thing," I exhaled a laugh, glancing at the bloodied ground one last time. "I'm pretty useless without my laptop or financial statements."

* * *

Reid determined that the unsub likely had some sort of scar or deformity above his eyebrow that he was actually trying to draw attention away from, an identifiable indicator. With that, Garcia was able to alter the original sketch to accommodate for his new, recognizable feature, and Todd distributed the new sketch to the public. The team went their separate ways: to interview Viper, the instructor of the self-help class the unsub likely attended; the new victim's family; and the press. I was left at the station to compile any new information that was brought in.  
I dialed the number of my favorite technical analyst. "Garcia," I greeted.

"Yes my sparkly princess," she answered.

"I'm freaking out," I admitted, sighing into the phone.

"Why's that my dear?" she prodded with concern.

"I haven't been any help since we've gotten here," I told her. "Hotch even made me go to the crime scene earlier, and I don't want to disappoint everyone, but I have no idea what I'm doing if I'm not looking at numbers and patterns."

"Oh believe me, honey, I understand. But you'll figure it out, I promise," she assured.

I smiled into the phone. "Thanks Garcia." She really was the best to go to for encouragement.

"Anytime." The phone clicked, and I was able to re-motivate myself. I'd proven myself to the team already, but I didn't want completely revert back to rookie status. I sat concentratedly at my laptop with another steaming cup of coffee and once again began searching for anything that could be relevant to catching this killer.

Prentiss stuck her head through the door. "We're ready to give the profile," she announced. I stood up from my seat and followed her through the station to where the rest of the team was. "You should've seen the guy from the self-help class," she said, replaying her experience. I signaled for her to go on. "He teaches pathetic guys how to pick up women at clubs. He actually told me that we had the advantage there, but on his turf, he could make me do anything." Her eyes rolled.

I scowled. "He said that to you?"

"I wish I was lying," she chuckled heartily.

"I wish I could say that I haven't heard similar comments," I shrugged laughing.

The rest of the team and the police officers working the case were huddled around a board, pinned with photos and information connecting the dots of the case. Prentiss stepped up to deliver the profile. "Our unsub is a confident, alpha male," she started. "He's white. He's between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. He's in excellent physical shape, to overpower women and to also feed his self image.

"He has an obsession with cleaning," Rossi piped in. "He probably works in some service industry, wiping up after others, convinced that everyone looks down on him. His change in himself and his victimology reflects that."

Morgan spoke up. "This is the kind of guy who wants to stand out in crowds, who's taken a class on how to pick up women." I rolled my eyes to myself that such classes even existed. "So he'll repeat a series of well rehearsed lines and mind-games."

"He may be uneducated, but he's by no means stupid," Hotch clarified. "Taking this class has given him the ability to read verbal cues and body language."

"Uh, one classic routine that Viper promotes is called the 'push-pull.' He'll insert himself between two women, and immediately after complimenting one, he'll deliver a subtle insult, then pay attention to the other," Reid explained. He motioned to Agent Todd. "Those are really nice earrings. I like those."

She reached up with a hand to grasp the stud she was wearing. "Thanks," she exhaled.

Reid nodded, "My grandmother wears a lot of fake jewelry also," he insulted, demonstrating the technique, which triggered an eye-roll from Todd. "Ignoring the one woman puts her in direct competition with her friend and causes the other to pursue more aggressively...I was just demonstrating, sorry," he pointed to Todd.

Detective Harding took the floor. "We've mapped the hotspots he hits, and he frequents the same clubs that Viper does, so we need eyes and ears in every single one."

"Circulate the sketches as widely as possible," Hotch commanded. "We need everyone aware that there's a killer out there. Thank you very much." The members of Atlanta PD dispersed in their own directions.

"I think I may just stay home tonight and man the tip-line. Clubs aren't really my thing," Spencer suggested.

"Not a chance, kid," Morgan bantered, "I need a wing-man, c'mon now." He slapped Reid on the back comically.

"Actually, there is another angle we need to pursue," Rossi reminded.

"We still don't know what made the unsub change his victimology, what made him stop killing prostitutes and move into the clubs."

"The answer might be something in Viper's class," Rossi brainstormed. "But to figure that out, we need to profile the teacher."

"We need to bait him then with someone he sees as a challenge," Morgan continued.

"To study his style up close and personal, it's gonna take someone he's already attracted to," Reid shifted his gaze to Prentiss, and the rest of the team followed suit.

She stared back blankly until she caught on that she was the one to do so. "Oh, this is really gonna suck," she exhaled, shaking her head.

The men chuckled, and the team went their separate ways. I took this opportunity to approach Hotch, who was still standing stern-faced in the middle of the room. "Sir, I've been absolutely useless since we've gotten here, but I think I can be of some help undercover with Prentiss."

"Agent Green, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you're unarmed and have no undercover experience." His brow was furrowed with concern.

"Hotch, you said you thought I could be an asset in the field for this case. I'm not a profiler; I'm an accountant," I laughed nervously to myself at my lack of credibility here, "but I have seen this kind of behavior before, and I know what'll make this guy tick," I assured.

He thought quizzically for a moment. "Fine," he finally agreed. "but undercover work always has the potential to be dangerous. Stay near one of us at all times if possible," he ordered. "Find Prentiss, and start getting ready for tonight."

"Yes sir, thank you," I smiled humbly. He nodded in return, and I left to find Prentiss.  
She was in the department's locker room curling her hair and applying makeup acceptable for a night out. "You've got backup," I giggled as I entered.

It took her a second to realize I was talking about myself. "That's great!" she smiled. "I'm really glad I won't have to take on Viper by myself." Her tone was sarcastic, yet relieved.

I sat down in front of a small mirror to begin reapplying makeup on myself. "My friends in college used to drag me to these clubs on the weekends, so guys like Viper a little too familiar unfortunately." I exhaled a laugh.

"Oh, just wait. He's definitely one of a kind...or likes to think he is at least," Prentiss joked.

I put the finishing touches on my hair, curling it slightly but with lots of volume, and colored my lips in a deep red shade. A knock on the locker room door signaled someone's arrival. "Green, Prentiss?" Hotch's voice called.

"Yeah, come on in," she invited. He opened the door holding our wardrobes for the evening, tight, over-the-top dresses no doubt.

"We're ten minutes away," I promised.

"You're okay with this right?" Hotch double-checked, looking at Prentiss.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she assured. "Sadly, I've actually dated people worse than Viper," Prentiss joked.

Hotch paused in disbelief. "Wow." I released a giggle, unfortunately having a poor dating track record for myself. "Good luck, Agent Green," Hotch gave a rare, encouraging smile before exiting the room.

I put on the dress and shoes that Hotch delivered. Prentiss looked stunning in an all black ensemble: a simple, yet sexy, form-fitting dress and complementary stilettos. I glanced at my own reflection from the small mirror. My dress was a tight, strapless, silver number that sparkled a bit too much from every angle accompanied by crimson colored heels that somehow matched my lipstick perfectly. "I look like a slutty disco ball," I frowned. "Who knew blending in could be so flashy?"

"Viper will love it," Prentiss smirked. "Let's go." We took our own separate SUV to the club, meeting Morgan and Reid separately. They would be observing from afar, handing out flyers of the unsub, while Prentiss and I attempted to break down Viper.

Prentiss positioned herself to meet Viper's eye when the time was right, and I ventured to the bar for a drink until the moment was right, ordering myself a vodka tonic. Yes, I was drinking on the job, but I wasn't armed, and I needed to blend in as best as I could. Once I had my drink in hand, I spotted Prentiss conversing with a man who's attire more than slightly resembled a pirate and made my way over. "Is, uh, this the guy you were telling me about?" I approached, motioning in Viper's direction.

He looked taken aback initially, but then his smile widened broadly at my arrival. "Viper, meet Hilary Green from the BAU." I smiled flirtatiously and took a generous sip of my drink. "Hilary, this is Viper: God's gift to women," Prentiss introduced.

I shifted my flirtatious expression to a sarcastic one. "Well, God sure does have a since of humor."

His cocky smile faded in disbelief. "Ha, you brought a friend." He downed some of his own drink.

"You promised," Prentiss reminded. "If I met you on your turf, you'd show me something special. So? Let's see it."

"Yeah Viper," I leaned in, taking another sip. "Who get's pushed, and who get's pulled tonight?"

He began demonstrating some of his signature techniques that he taught in his classes. Viper insisted that the eyes actually were the window to the soul and that your pupils dilated when making eye contact with someone you were attracted to. "You see, eye contact is a very powerful gauge," he explained. I tried to keep my eyes locked on his without faltering. "That's why you tend to look away from someone you're attracted to because you know instinctively what a dead giveaway it is, but your brain goes there anyway: images, fantasies," he nodded his head and grinned suggestively.

Prentiss stood to the side, timing our eye contact. "Don't flatter yourself," I said, never taking my eyes away from his. There was no way I could be attracted to this guy, so I felt sure that my eyes couldn't reveal me.

"The eyes don't lie, they dilate," he educated. "It's a chemical response we can't control." He leaned closer.

"Okay fifteen seconds are up," Prentiss stopped timing.

She observed my eyes. "What do you see?"

"Nope, no change," she confirmed, smiling pompously at Viper. "No dilation."

"I guess we just aren't a match," I shrugged, pretending to be distraught.

"It's because you have someone else on the mind," he waved his hand indifferently. I stood up sharply, my eyes widened subtly. "Once that happens, the attraction center in the brain shuts down." He looked from me to Prentiss, and I met her gaze. She raised an eyebrow at me curiously. I hadn't met anyone special since I'd arrived in Quantico, but I'd found myself drawn a little too curiously to the handsome young doctor, and I felt as though Prentiss had caught on to Viper's insinuation.

"Your turn," he motioned to Prentiss, directing his full attention to her.

"Uh, no," she nodded certainly with a smile, prompting a deep chuckle from Viper.

"You scared I might be right?"

She too began laughing heartily, shifting to seriousness. "No, Paul. I'm baffled." She shook her head. "I cannot figure out what the unsub could've learned from you."

His expression fell. "What do you mean? He took my look, my words, everything that makes me successful to the opposite sex."

"Wow, really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Because that guy got beautiful women to let him in their apartments, and I wouldn't let you on my Facebook page."

"Hey, hey, hey, I gave him the routines that made him what he is," he defended.

"Must be in the salesmanship."

"Because we've been watching all the women in the club."

"And not one of them has looked at you, so who do you really go home with, Paul? Or do you go home alone?" Prentiss inquired.

He laughed nervously. "That was really good ladies. Don't you think I know why you're here?" He became defensive, his ego had taken a beating. "One of my student's copies my moves and you're here to get inside my mind." He looked angry.

"That's just it, Paul," I decided to push him further over the edge. "I know why you have to use the little tricks. You dress like a space cowboy, wear a little too much eyeliner, and use your wit because that's really all you have," I shrugged. "You aren't good-looking, and you really don't seem all that bright." I was downright condescending to this guy. "You overcompensate because deep down you know you aren't what you teach other men to be: interesting." I rolled my eyes. "You're boring, Paul."

He gritted his teeth. "Don't you see? I confronted my queen bee a long time ago."

"What's a queen be?" I asked.

"You are," he said flatly. "And so is every other confident girl in here who's loud when she's drunk."

I glanced at Prentiss. "The social butterfly," she noted. "The alpha female."

"Every student who's ever taken my class has had one in his life, and the first exercise my students have to complete is to confront their queen bee." He narrowed his eyes. "Could be the girl who cheated on you, or the prom date who stood you up, but you find them and squash them," he breathed angrily in my face.

I grabbed my empty glass, and Prentiss and I made our way to a quieter area, leaving Viper behind and baffled. Prentiss dialed Hotch as soon as we got away from the loud music. "Our unsub knew Vanessa Holden," she said as soon as he picked up.

"How do you know?"

"Viper's first confidence exercise in his class is to confront the girl who rejected you," I explained.

"That's why he moved on from prostitutes. He took Viper's class and decided to confront Vanessa Holden."

"It makes sense to what he said to Vanessa that night: 'Don't you know who I am? Look closer.'" Rossi connected the dots over the phone.

Prentiss hung up. "I'm going to get another drink," I shook my empty glass. "Want anything?"

"No, I'll meet you up at the front," she shook her head decisively. "Good job, Hilary. You really got to him," she smiled.

"Thanks, Emily. Be right back." I turned and headed back into the blaring music to get another drink at the bar.

"Last call people!" The bartender yelled. I sat in a barstool and ordered another vodka tonic.

"Excuse me," a confident voice beside me called. I turned to face the man's voice. "You are stunning." I wasn't a fan of getting hit on at clubs, but I decided to entertain it after meeting with Viper. I enjoyed bringing down cocky egos every once in a while.

"Thank you," I smiled brightly, not caring to get a good look at the man. He had dark hair and wore all black.

"Can I read your palm?" he asked. I extended my hand. "Such a beautiful palm," he flattered. He began analyzing it. "See here, you have a broken love line, which means you haven't found your soulmate yet."

"Well that's true," I rolled my eyes.

"It's really amazing, you see it in these couples that are together forever. The lines on their palms change." As he gripped my hand tighter, I looked up into his face and noticed a very distinguishing feature: a scar over his eyebrow. He was using one of Viper's pickup techniques. Our unsub was holding my hand. I kept my expression blank. "So they become mirror images of each other."

"That's interesting," I remarked, my voice quivering just slightly at my growing nerves.

"It amazing actually," he paused. "Why don't you say we go somewhere a little quieter," he suggested.

"Actually, I came here with a date," I pulled my hand back. I looked across the club, spotting Spencer wandering aimlessly around about fifteen feet away. "I should get back to him." I stood up and rushed over to Spencer as quickly as I could without seeming suspicious. I felt the unsub's gaze on body, his eyes boring into my back. Reid was facing the other direction, so I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to me and extended up to whisper in his ear, thanking my heels for actually making me tall enough to do so. He stiffened initially at my grip. "It's me. I need you to pretend like you like me." I kept my voice low, but the fright in it was obvious. He picked up on the situation and placed a possessive hand on the small of my back, drawing me even closer. I stood back at normal height to look at his face.

"What's going on?" he asked urgently, keeping his face neutral.

My voice was loud enough only for Spencer to hear over the loud music. "That guy at the bar was trying to get me to leave with him, and I told him you were my date to get away. Spencer, that's the unsub. He's using Viper's techniques, and he's got the scar."

Spencer's phone beeped and he glanced down to check the message. "Hotch just sent the info; his name's Robert Parker, c'mon." His grip on me tightened and we walked away from the bar, walking me to the front. The disparity of the situation kept me on edge, but I couldn't help but notice that I actually found myself enjoying Spencer's hold. He dialed a number on his phone. "Morgan, meet me at the bar," he ordered. "We've got our unsub." Once I was near the front exit, he turned and headed back to the bar, unholstering his concealed gun. He turned back to me quickly. "Don't come back into the bar area," he instructed, appearing much more serious than usual.

Prentiss saw us and raised an eyebrow as I approached her. "What was that about?" she questioned.

"I met the unsub at the bar," I gulped in disbelief. "Reid and Morgan are going to arrest him now."

"Wow," her eyes widened. "Are you okay?" I realized I was shaking slightly.

"Yeah, fine," I assured. "I'm just really ready to go back to Quantico."

"Well I'd say you've been more successful in the field than you thought," she gave an encouraging smile.

* * *

 **The romantic tension is building between Spencer and Hilary! I want it to be cute and subtle though, not a rush straight into love. Hope you enjoy it so far, and don't forget to let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

The plane ride back to Quantico would be quick, but this brief hour and a half was a decent amount of time for the team to relax. Reid and Morgan arrested the unsub at the club without him harming any other women; overall, this case had been a success given the circumstances. Some of the team would take this time to catch up on sleep, but I darted straight for the coffee maker near the front of the jet. I hadn't been sleeping much lately after starting the job, and caffeine was my greatest lifeline, more so than it used to be. I poured myself a generous cup of the steaming liquid, and began pouring a second after seeing Hotch approach out of the corner of my eye, not bothering with the cream and sugar. He didn't sugar coat things in reality, so I doubted he'd do the same for his beverages.

"Here," I said, handing him the styrofoam cup with a weak smile.

"Thanks," he paused. "Prentiss says you were excellent undercover," Hotch complimented quietly, offering a small smile that was uncharacteristic to his professional behavior.

"I'm glad I could actually be somewhat helpful." I took a sip of coffee, heading back to my seat. I turned back around to face Hotch who was following me back to where the team sat. "But Hotch?" He nodded. "Please never make me go back into the field again," I grinned comically, but my request was genuine. I couldn't handle looking at any more blood spatters.

He released a quick chuckle, and the rest of the team indulged in a laugh with him. "I can't make any promises."

I took a seat, stretching out as comfortably as possible and took a generous gulp of my steamy drink.

"So Hil," Morgan raised a dark eyebrow. We'd moved past formalities, and they called me by nicknames at this point, especially Morgan and Garcia. "Emily says you totally embarrassed Viper."

"Yeah, how are you so great with narcissists?" Emily chuckled.

"Well," I rolled my eyes playfully. "Unfortunately, I've dated one," I admitted.

"You know, we use the term 'narcissist' loosely to describe people who appear arrogant, but actually suffering from narcissistic personality disorder is rare," Reid described, talking with his hands. "True narcissists only make up about 6 percent of the population, most of which are males." Like always, he left the rest of the team silent, all gazing at him with expressions of disbelief.

I retrieved my copy of _The Wealth of Nations_ by Adam Smith from my bag and set my styrofoam cup the arm rest's cup holder. "I guess I'm just lucky then," I shrugged casually, opening to my dog-eared page. My ex truly was a narcissist. His self-obsession and need for recognition and control went beyond just a little over-confidence.  
I pushed the thoughts from the past out of my mind and began reading.

"Adam Smith, huh?" Reid continued, motioning to my book with interest.

I refolded the corner of my current page and looked up at him. "Yeah, I kinda have a thing for economic theory, I guess."

Rossi released a deep laugh. "Don't you kids appreciate a good work of fiction anymore?" he joked sarcastically.

I looked back down at my closed book, smoothing the worn cover. "I read it for the first time a while back, but I always reread it in my free time."

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving," Morgan piped in. "Anybody wanna grab something to eat?"

"I could eat," Prentiss agreed. By the time we landed, it would be about dinner time. Reid nodded in agreement, and they looked to me.

"Sorry, I have a date with my couch tonight," I declined. I hadn't been sleeping well recently, and to be truthful, I was exhausted. I also had a pantry of groceries that needed to be eaten. Rossi, Hotch, and Todd also chose not to accept the dinner invite. "But I have been craving some good Italian food recently," I admitted, looking to Rossi suggestively.

"Kid, I don't know what you're thinking, but the answer is no," he dodged. His words were serious, but his eyes were playful. Rossi had quickly become like a father figure since my arrival.

"Garcia's told me about your carbonara."

"Well it is the best," he shrugged confidently.

"So dinner at your house tomorrow then?" I bantered.

"First of all, I don't have a house. It's a mansion," he corrected. "Second, these things take preparation. Only the freshest ingredients should be used in cucina Italiana," Rossi lectured, motioning the stereotypical Italian chef kiss.

"I'll help you then. You do the main course, and I'll make the appetizers," I offered, my stomach rumbling at the thought of pasta tossed in rich sauces.

"Just leave the cooking to me," he insisted.

"Hey! I can cook," I said defensively.

"I don't doubt it," he replied. "But cooking true Italian takes more than skill. It's got to be in your blood. And judging by that pasty skin of yours, I'd say there's nothing Mediterranean in your ancestry." Rossi joked, triggering a laugh from the rest of the team.

"He's got a point," Morgan agreed. I faked offense before giving in with a giggle. My pale skin always had managed to become the punchline, an insecurity I'd learned to eventually embrace.

Emily recovered from her laughter. "We can go pick out the wine tomorrow afternoon," she suggested.

"That, I can do," I smiled. After all, what was a true Italian meal without fine wine to accompany it?

Once we'd returned to Quantico, and I'd made it home, I chopped a few vegetables and roasted them in the oven with a chicken breast. I was hungry and desperate for a home-cooked meal but too lazy to make anything too elaborate. While things were cooking, I plopped on the couch and called Penelope.

"Hello sunshine," she answered with her usual pep.

"Hey G," I greeted. "How was Quantico without me?"

"Oh honey, please never leave me again," she pleaded.

"Believe me, I never want to go into the field again," I chuckled. "We're having dinner at Rossi's tomorrow. Want to go pick up the wine with Emily and me tomorrow?"

"You know I don't turn down wine, my dear."

"Good. I wanted to cook something, but Rossi said to leave the Italian to him." I walked back to the kitchen and peeped in the oven at the veggies and closed it back to let them roast further.

"Well I don't think anyone would object if you brought a dessert." She paused on the line. "And I know of at least one person who will be there who is easily allured by incredibly sugary substances," Garcia stated suggestively. I could visualize her winking on the other end.

"Garcia!" I scolded. I knew she was talking about Reid. He was the only one at risk for going into a sugar coma after one cup of coffee.

"Oh honey, Prentiss told me she saw you too getting a little cozy at the the club," Garcia bantered.

"It was for the case," I answered flatly, but I couldn't help but smile slightly.

"Sure, sure, whatever you say," she dismissed. "Just know that I fully support it being for more than just a case." Her voiced dripped with a little too much enthusiasm.

I rolled my eyes. "I guess it couldn't hurt to bring a little something sweet," I gave in. Going out of my way to impress a guy wasn't in my nature, but Spencer was interesting. And while I wasn't one for dating, the thought of him made me feel like a giddy teenage girl.

"I knew it!" Penelope boasted.

"What?"

"You like him!" she continued.

"Garcia," I groaned again.

"Don't 'Garcia' me, and don't pretend you don't like him!" she insisted. "For the record, he thinks you're pretty."

"He does?" I blurted, my eyes widening as I realized I shouldn't have sounded so eager. "I mean.."

"Yes, now go whip up something delicious and pick out something sexy to wear. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, she hung up before I had the chance to say anything else.

I got up again to check my cooking dinner. It was finally ready, so I set it out to cool slightly before plating it and heading back to my spot on the couch. I turned on the TV and switched it to the Investigation Discovery channel, taking a bite of steamy zucchini and tomato. A documentary about Aileen Wuornos was on. She was one of the most famous female serial killers, and I was intrigued and terrified at the same time. When I wasn't at work, I found myself spending a lot of my free time learning more and more about killers trying to desensitize myself to what I saw at work on a daily basis, but my efforts were unsuccessful. Nights extended into mornings as I got less and less sleep over what I continued to learn, but somehow I managed to drift into a peaceful sleep on the couch after a few hours.

* * *

The early Saturday morning sunlight streamed into the living room, waking me up from my slumber on the couch. I'd fallen asleep with the TV on, dinner plate on the edge of the coffee table, and still wearing my work clothes from yesterday. I switched the television off, put my plate in the sink, and headed to the bathroom to wash of yesterday's makeup and shower, stretching uncomfortably along the way. The couch wasn't adequate for comfortable sleeping, but I was grateful to get more than four hours of rest for once.  
I turned on the steamy shower and completed my morning routine. It was early, and I wanted to go buy ingredients for whatever dessert I was making before it was time for Prentiss, Garcia, and I to take a trip to the liquor store. Once I was clean from head to toe, I stepped out, drying off with a fluffy towel, and dressed in an oversized college t-shirt and worn denim shorts for now. I let my hair air dry in its natural waves and headed to the kitchen to see what ingredients I already had on hand. I decided on making tiramisu since I already had eggs, sugar, and cocoa; it was sweet, delicious, and most importantly Italian.  
I shot the girls a text asking what time they wanted to go get the wine, grabbed my purse, and headed out to the nearest grocery store. It was a small mom-and-pop store about two miles down the road, but they had the quality ingredients that I needed. I gathered whole milk, mascarpone cheese, espresso, Italian ladyfingers, and bittersweet chocolate in a basket. I'd need to get the brandy when we bought the wine.

My phone buzzed. It was Garcia suggesting we go at noon and that she'd pick us up. I agreed and headed to the checkout line. I paid for the groceries and drove back to my apartment to put them away before it was time to go again. It was ten in the morning, so I had a good bit of time before Emily and Penelope arrived. Back at home, I put away the ingredients and fell back onto the couch, opening my laptop. Working at the BAU was stressful for sure, but the time I had alone in my apartment left me restless and wishing I had someone's finances to analyze.  
It didn't take long for Garcia to text me that she was outside; her enthusiasm shown in everything she did, and that included arriving early anywhere she went.

"Hello dear!" she greeted with an immense amount of pep as I sat in the passenger seat. Emily's apartment was on the way.

"Hey P," I smiled widely. "We're getting extra boozy tonight. I'm getting brandy too," I said, buckling up.

"Yeah?" her eyes widened brightly as she sped away to pick of Emily.

"I'm making tiramisu," I stated excitedly.

"Oh honey," her tone was serious. "I thought you were baking to impress, not baking to get laid." Penelope's expression was contrastingly playful, and she gave me a wink. I rolled my eyes and shot a glare her way. "I'm serious. If you bring tiramisu, we're all gonna be in love with you by the end of the night."

"Just do me a favor and keep the innuendos to yourself," I pleaded.

"You know that's a promise I cannot make," she grinned. "Now, more importantly, what are you wearing?" Garcia's eyes sparkled behind her bedazzled-framed glasses.

"I was thinking about just wearing this," I motioned to my baggy t-shirt sarcastically. "And no makeup too. Don't I look fantastic?" I rolled my eyes again, this time with a wide grin.

She didn't seem thrilled with my sarcasm. "I've never seen you look ugly, missy, but if you don't look your absolute best this evening, I'm going to have to dress you myself."

"Why are you so hung up on this, P?"

"Because, my sweet, when two beautiful, intelligent young people, who would happen to be very compatible based on my analysis, meet each other, they need a little more than just the forces of nature to bring them together. And that force is me," she explained. "Now I know you're an independent woman and all, but don't you think it would be nice to have a date every once in a while?" She wasn't wrong. I hadn't really met or even looked to meet anyone other than the team since I'd moved here, and the apartment did get lonely. But my dating life had been messy, and the memories of it reminded me of things I didn't want to potentially relive. "And we all know Reid sure as hell could use a woman in his life," Garcia finished.

"I'm just not good at dating..at all," I admitted, playing with my thumbs nervously. "My dating experience is limited, and I can't think of anything good that came out of it. I'm twenty-six years old, and I haven't come close to being in love; I really don't think I'd know it if it hit me."

"Honey, I can talk all day about bad dates," she bantered. "I once went out with a guy, and at the end of the night I thought he was going to kiss me. You know what he did instead?" I shook my head with interest. "Shot me. On my doorstep."

"Penelope!" I gasped.

"I'm fine!" He's in prison, and now I'm as cool as the rest of the team," she rushed to assure. "My point is: you may have had bad luck in the past, but Reid wouldn't do you like that. And look, now I have Kevin!"

I laughed, shaking my head, as we pulled up to Prentiss's apartment complex. "I really hope you aren't pushing this on him as much as you are on me."

"Oh no, the rest of the team just makes fun of him for staring," she clarified with another wink.

"Hey ladies!" Prentiss greeted as she stepped into the car.

"Hey Emily," I turned to smile, and Garcia did the same.

"So, what's on the booze menu?" Emily asked curiously.

"As much wine as we can carry," I joked.

"And Brandy!" Penelope piped in.

"Ah, now that's my kind of night," Emily grinned mischievously. "What's the brandy for?"

"Hilary's making tiramisu."

"I know Rossi said not to cook anything," I shrugged, "but I'm stubborn I guess."

"Well I'm glad you are," Prentiss nodded. "I could use something sweet." Garcia shot her a suggestive look in the rearview mirror, and I raised an eyebrow silently, hoping all the talk about dating and romance was over for now. We pulled into the liquor store's parking lot and Garcia parked the car at the front. We all exited the vehicle and headed inside.

"I think I'm in heaven," I exhaled sarcastically as I noticed the elaborate displays of booze lining the walls and aisles in the middle of the store. There were endless options of wine, liquor, and beer, including selections of imports and domestic brands. The price tags were daunting, though. This wasn't the place to go for drinking on a budget, but only the best would do for Rossi. I put a small bottle of brandy in my basket, and we moved onto the wines. We selected whites, red, some dry, some sweet, and some sparkling: something for every pallet and flavor profile.

"I feel like I'm going to need to call Kevin to come pick me up after all this," Garcia grinned, her expression naughty and suggestive. She waved a bottle of champagne excitedly.

I looked down at the wines in my shopping basket, calculating the prices and corresponding alcohol contents mentally. "I think my bank account and I are both gonna be in trouble."

We paid for the bottles, each of us receiving curiously scrutinizing expressions from the cashier and returned to Penelope's car.

"See you guys tonight!" Emily waved as we dropped her off at her apartment, carrying her share of the wine indoors.  
It was early afternoon, so I still had plenty of time to put the tiramisu together and get ready for tonight.

"What are you doing the rest of the day, my sweet?" Garcia asked, driving toward my apartment to take me home.

"I guess just making the dessert and getting ready," I shrugged.

"Perfect! As you can see, I'm already ready." She motioned to her perfectly done, bright makeup and floral dress. "So, I can come back with you to pick out what you're going to wear."

"Oh, Penelope," I shook my head with a smile.

At my apartment, Penelope made herself at home, and I prepared the ingredients for the dessert. Once the tiramisu was put together, I put it in the fridge to chill and returned to the living room where Garcia sat watching TV. She'd easily become my best friend in Quantico since we were left behind while the rest of the team worked in the field, so each other's apartments were quite familiar to us. "Okay missy, you insisted, so come help me find something to wear."

"Well first, you need to do your makeup and something to that hair," she grabbed a strand of my wavy golden hair that had air-dried and become lifeless. "You go work on that, and I'll go through your closet." I walked to the bathroom and pinned my hair back, applying a layer of foundation and neutral eye makeup with plum-colored lipstick. Then I worked with a curling iron to softly curl my hair and create more volume. Once that was finished, I headed to my bedroom to find an outfit laid out on my bed: a long-sleeved floral tunic that was modest enough but revealed a slight amount of cleavage, light-wash high-waisted flared jeans, and nude wedges. _Not bad_ , I thought to myself. Pleasantly surprised with Garcia's outfit choice, I got dressed and returned to the living room for her to see.

"Well?" I raised my hands, asking for feedback.

"Casual, yet stunning," she approved. "Damn, I have good taste." We laughed together and gathered our things to leave for Rossi's.

* * *

I always seemed to forget that Rossi was indeed a famous author and, therefore, very well endowed monetarily. His white mansion was built in the traditional Italian style, of course, with perfectly trimmed shrubbery and magnificent driveway that could accommodate a crowd of vehicles. Garcia and I entered the mansion to hear the sounds of Dean Martin's music playing softly to the beat of Rossi dicing pancetta. The inside of his home was just as extravagant as the outside, decorated with crisp white and neutral furniture and dimly lit to set the mood. Hotch and Morgan were the first to arrive, both sitting at the bar with glasses of scotch.

"Hey, hey, put that scotch away! We didn't buy all this wine for nothing," Garcia announced our entrance, holding up the bags of wine for them to see.

"Oh baby girl, you really have outdone yourself." Morgan stood to take the bags from our hands and began unloading them on the counter.

"What's that, kid?" Rossi paused from chopping and pointed to the baking dish in my hands with his knife.

"I made tiramisu." I passed him to put it in the refrigerator. "And if you don't like it, we brought enough wine to keep you satisfied," I joked, reaching over to receive a side hug from him before he continued prepping the ingredients.

"I guess I'll give it a chance," he chuckled, turning on the stove to begin boiling the pasta and frying the pancetta.

"Now who wants wine?" Garcia asked enthusiastically. Rossi showed me where the wine glasses were located, and I got enough down for all of us. JJ had been invited but Henry was sick, and Jordan also couldn't make it, so I retrieved seven wine glasses and placed them on the counter next to the bottles.  
Emily and Spencer walked in as I found a corkscrew and began taking orders for what everyone wanted to drink. I uncorked a few of the bottles and began pouring. Rossi and I wanted to start with a Cabernet; Emily, Hotch, and Penelope decided on Chardonnay; and Morgan and Spencer began with Merlot.

"Salute!" Rossi cheered, raising his glass to everyone, and we clinked glasses in excitement. He gave us step-by-step instructions on how to properly cook traditional carbonara. Once the pasta and garlic bread was ready, we headed outside to eat under his gazebo. Every detail and decoration of his mansion was over the top and tasteful. Rossi bragged about how delicious his cooking was, and indeed it was the best Italian I'd tasted. The table was surprisingly silent as we stuffed our faces happily.  
Wine glass after wine glass was poured and a few of us were feeling visibly boozy by now. It was time for dessert, so Rossi grabbed the tiramisu from the fridge and served everyone a plate.

"Rossi, this is amazing!" Spencer's eyes lit up as he took a bite. Garcia and Prentiss exchanged mischievous glances.

"I didn't make it," Rossi deflected, taking a bite himself and giving me a thumbs up. "But I wouldn't mind taking credit for it."

Reid's expression of amazement shifted from Rossi to me, and he took another oversized bite.

"Damn girl, why haven't we been eating at your place this whole time?" Morgan smiled playfully, clearly enjoying the dessert himself.

"My apartment is too small!" I laughed, happy that the tiramisu was a hit. "Maybe I'll start bringing leftovers to work."

Reid nodded quickly, "Yeah, I'd be okay with that." His plate was clean. He his eagerness currently resembled children on Halloween after eating their favorite piece of candy.

After topping off my wine glass several times, I'd lost track of how much I had actually drank. It wasn't until I tried to stand to put my dishes in the kitchen that I realized how tipsy I actually was. The rest of the team filed inside to put their dishes away, and I made it to the back patio stairs in my elevated shoes before I started struggling.  
I lost balance slightly. "Whoa, easy," Spencer's quick grip took hold of my forearm, preventing me from taking a tumble into the shrubbery.

The rest of the team shifted their attention to my clumsy self. I straightened my posture and composed myself. "These shoes really don't go well with booze," I laughed uncomfortably at the rhyming. Rossi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that wasn't funny," I slurred. This prompted laughter from everyone else.

"First time drinking, kid?" Morgan prodded jokingly.

"No, but it feels like it," I quickly sat at a barstool. My mind was clear, but my body was highly uncoordinated. Penelope and Rossi seemed to be in the same boat I was in, but the rest of the team appeared fairly sober, or at least only mildly buzzed.

"Well I was right, I'm gonna need Kevin to come get me." Garcia clumsily reached for her cell phone and stumbled out of the room to call him.

"I'm going to save these dishes for in the morning," Rossi decided, reaching for yet another glass of wine. He certainly didn't look like he needed anymore to drink either, but he also didn't have to worry about getting home.

"Alright, my sweets," Garcia re-entered the room, making her way toward the front door. "I'm going to get cuddly." She winked. "Goodnight, be safe." She exited the house; Kevin had come to drive her, leaving her car parked in Rossi's driveway. I was currently intoxicated and stranded here unless someone volunteered to drive me back to my apartment.

I leaned closer to the bar for support. "I'll give the rest of this tiramisu to anyone who can drop me off at my apartment," I offered.

That got the attention of the remaining sober members of the BAU. Reid's eyes darted back and forth from me to the dessert. "Yeah, I uh, can drop you off. It's on the way to my apartment."

"You've never been to my place," I slurred quizzically, my drunk mind unable to comprehend how he'd know it was on the way.

The remaining guests shared a laugh; he clearly became embarrassed and paused for a moment. "It was just so delicious, you know, so it would be worth going out of my way for." In any other situation, I would've been flattered, but my mind was growing cloudy and I wanted nothing more than to just go home and go to sleep.

"Thanks, genius." I handed him the baking dish that contained the remaining dessert. We said our goodbyes to everyone, and I somehow managed to strut out the front door and down the front steps without losing balance. I paused, not sure which car to go to.

"It's this one." Reid pointed to an older blue Volvo, and I followed, climbing in the passenger seat. We both buckled up, and he headed toward the highway after I gave him my address.

"I'm sorry you have to drive me home. I haven't been like this since college," I admitted, ashamedly. My heavy head fell back on the passenger seat headrest, and I tilted it to look in his direction.

"You know, I didn't drink much in college," he shrugged. "No one really wanted to party with a fourteen year-old." He spoke matter-of-factly, but his tone was underlined with humor. I couldn't help but giggle. "It's really not a problem though. I get to spend more time with a friend, and I get free tiramisu out of it." His long hair covered his face as he looked onto the road, but I could tell he was smiling.

"That's my building," I pointed as he pulled into the apartment complex parking lot. He parked the car, and I opened the passenger door. "Thanks for the ride," I slurred with a sincere grin.

"Are you good?" he asked.

"Yeah!" I assured, stepping a foot out onto the pavement. The three flights of stairs I'd have to climb were taunting me though. I stepped completely out of the car and lost balance immediately, cursing myself for indulging in way too much Cabernet. A few years ago, I could've drank heavily and been fully coordinated. Now I was trashed after just a few glasses.

"It really doesn't look like you are," Spencer observed from the driver's seat, unbuckling and stepping out of the car as well. "Come on," he said, following behind me toward the stairs to make sure my balance stayed in tact.

I was mortified. I had no romantic expectations whatsoever, but Reid was cute, and I was making a complete fool of myself. "This is so embarrassing," I groaned with the passing steps.

"Do you realize how many times I embarrass myself at work on a daily basis?" I bantered. "It's nothing, seriously."

"Yeah, but that's because you're too smart for everyone else, not because you're a drunk idiot."

"Hilary, don't worry about it," he repeated. "I wouldn't be walking you up the stairs if I didn't want to."

After just a few more steps we made it to my room. I reached in my bag and retrieved my key, putting it into the lock. "Do you wanna come in?" I blurted. My intentions were one-hundred percent pure, but my apartment was lonely enough in regular circumstances, and I knew the extra alcohol in my bloodstream would have me wanting someone to talk to. "I mean, I can make some coffee or something."

"Sure," he agreed innocently, and we stepped into my small apartment.

* * *

 **That's it for Chapter 5! What happens next? Get ready for Chapter 6, and don't forget to review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello and welcome back to the story! Sorry for taking over a month to update. That definitely wasn't the plan, but I went on vacation and then got a little side tracked. So without further delay, here is chapter 6! Thanks to all who have followed the story thus far and have reviewed!**

* * *

 _Beep._

Despite my heavily sealed eyelids, I could tell that the morning sun shined brightly. Refusing to awaken fully just yet, I cringed instinctively at my current headache, inevitably caused by excessive drinking in the previous hours.

 _Beep._

My phone alerted from somewhere nearby. My eyes fluttered open slowly, reacting unpleasantly to the harsh light streaming in. Groggily, I realized I was tangled unceremoniously in a blanket. I had drunkenly fallen asleep on the couch. Following the sound of my beeping phone, I swatted a hand at the other end of the couch, grasping it successfully in one strike and bringing it to my squinting eyes to read the message.  
It was from Garcia. The BAU had been presented with a new case, requesting the team arrive to work as soon as possible. I groaned silently, unappreciative that not only was it 7:38 in the morning, but I was also severely hungover and still in my clothes from the night before.

From somewhere across the room, another device was beeping identically. I threw the blanket off my body, and stood in search of the unanswered alert. Turning to face the other end of the living room, I nearly jumped out of my own skin in shock. A sleeping Spencer Reid was sprawled peacefully on the opposite end of the couch, his own blanket partially covering his professionally clad body. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, not remembering the previous night's events. My sight then was shifted to the source of the periodic beeping. Spencer's phone was placed on my bookshelf, lighting up to likely reveal the same message from Garcia.  
 _What happened last night?_ I wondered, trying to piece together what I could remember. There were two half-full mugs on my coffee table along with a full glass of water and several books of varying genres scattered lazily about the table.

Spencer's phone sounded a final time. I looked back at him to see him stir slightly and return to his quiet, restful state. _Should I poke him?_ I thought to myself. I retrieved his cell from across the room, and returned to stand a few feet beside him. "Uh, Spencer?" I whispered, not wanting to completely shock him out of his peaceful slumber. However, we did have a case to get to, and I was definitely curious as to how the two of us ended up doing whatever the heck we were doing last night. No response. I placed an unsure hand on his shoulder, leaning over him. "Reid," I tried, a little more assertive this time.  
His eyes shot open, and his body jerked severely, stunned awake immediately. His lips parted as if to say something, but he inhaled sharply instead. Realizing that I was still hovering over him, I stepped back. "Shit, sorry," I excused myself awkwardly. I handed him the still-beeping phone. "It's Garcia," explained. "We've got a case."

He rubbed his tired eyes and stretched his lanky limbs, several joints popping at the motion. Spencer looked around the apartment as if he was assessing where exactly he had woken up. "Late night, huh?" he exhaled, offering a drowsy half-grin. He paused briefly, reading Garcia's message.

"Uh, yeah," I replied, looking back to the collection of books strewn across the coffee table. "I'm not exactly sure what happened after I brewed the coffee," I admitted with embarrassment, motioning to the half-drank cups.

Spencer's lips cracked into a fully amused smile, picking up my favorite book from the table in admiration. "So you don't remember forcing me to recite _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ from cover to cover?"

"Wait, what?" my brows furrowed in horror, but I couldn't help releasing a laugh.

"You, uh, didn't believe that I'd memorized all these books word for word, so you followed along while I recited them," he explained. His eyes were visibly tired but there was a lightheartedness dancing within them. Spencer looked around the room once more. "I must've dozed off on the second go-round," he yawned. His lengthy brown locks were even more tousled than usual.

"You quoted _Hunchback_ twice?" I asked, a little more than slightly confused.

"Not in its entirety," he clarified. He stopped to remember the events of last night and exhaled a hearty laugh. "I got to page 153 before you asked me to start over in French."

"Oh my god." I shook my head to myself, mortified that I'd not only wasted his time by accepting the ride home, but also drunkenly forcing him into my home to entertain me with his endless amount of knowledge. "I'm sorry," was all I could say, cringing. I made a mental note to never touch booze again. The hangover was bad enough, but the embarrassment really was the kicker.

"Don't be," he stood: a few more joints popping in his lean body. "You should get inebriated more often." Spencer paused for a second, slapping himself mentally, and then stammered, "I mean, you know, because you were so humorous. It was entertaining. Not that you aren't funny anyways, you were just..." I interrupted him with a giggle at his nervousness. I was the one who had embarrassed myself, and yet he was still unconfident because the topic didn't involve facts and statistics. "I guess I should probably get to the BAU," he changed the subject quickly, acknowledging the fact that we were needed at work as soon as possible. Spencer folded the blanket and placed it back where it belonged on the couch and reached for his cardigan.

I glanced down at my wrinkled outfit from the previous night. "Yeah, I should probably go change, so it's not too obvious that I passed out on my couch." Spencer returned his barely used coffee cup to the kitchen and placed it in the sink before heading to the door, and I followed to see him out. "Maybe we shouldn't mention that you stayed over. You know how the team is." I rolled my eyes, not eager to find out how Garcia would react to our night if she ever found out. Despite the fact that it was completely platonic, she'd no doubt prod me into giving all the juicy details that didn't actually happen.

"Understood," he nodded. "I don't think Morgan would ever let me live it down." He opened the door to leave but remained for another moment, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Hey, a theater downtown is having a screening of the 1970s Russian musical _An Ordinary Miracle_ next week. I don't know if that's something you'd be interested in since it'll be in Russian, obviously, but we should go, you know, if you want to or you don't have anything else to do." Spencer had opened up to me a little since my start at the BAU, but even the simplest forms of human interaction seemed to make him uncomfortable.

"Will there be subtitles?" I smiled.

"Probably not, but I can always translate it for you," he offered.

"Sounds good," I affirmed.

It took him a second to register the fact that I had accepted his offer, and he returned the smile. "Great. See you at the BAU."

"Bye, Spence." I wasn't exactly sure, but I might have just agreed to a date with Spencer Reid.

* * *

I hadn't had the amount of time I desired to get ready for work, so I simply sprinted to change into more professional attire and replaced my slept-on makeup with a thin layer of powder to even out my skin tone and a coat of mascara. My long hair had to be thrown into a messy ponytail, and my black-rimmed glasses thankfully camouflaged the appearance of the dark circles under my eyes.  
I was the last to arrive to the case briefing. Spencer hadn't bothered changing clothes; obviously he hadn't had enough time to go by his apartment, and I wasn't the only one to notice. Morgan made a snide comment about him resembling "the walk of shame," and I kept my gaze focused on anything other than them. "I stayed up late reading," I heard him explain nonchalantly. It was all I could do not to look their way or give myself away by giggling like a teenage girl.

Agent Todd briefed us on the current case in Phoenix, Arizona, involving several cop killings in the past week. As intently as I tried to stay focused, my hangover throbbed unforgivingly, and I sat with my eyes locked on the case file, pretending to give it the utmost attention that it deserved but that I was currently not capable of giving.

"Wheels up in twenty," Hotch's stern voice commanded, pulling me back into reality. The traveling members of the team filed out of the room, leaving Garcia and me to head to our positions at the computers. On the way, we stopped for coffee per usual.

"So..." she trailed off suggestively, raised an eyebrow at me. Although she had seemed just as intoxicated as I was the night before, Penelope was her usual bright and put-together self.

"So what?" I poured a cup, not paying attention to the accusation in her tone.

"Would you care to explain why you look a mess and not up to your usually professional beautiful self?"

"I'm hungover," I grumbled, taking a sip of the steaming liquid, currently hating myself for forgetting the ibuprofen at home. I made yet another mental note to never drink again, at least not anywhere near that heavily.

"Clearly. But I also noticed that in conjunction with your below average appearance, a certain young doctor is in the same exact clothing he wore to dinner last night, and I know for a fact that he isn't hungover." She had trapped me. Damn her for being so observant. "Although, he did look quite exhausted." Her wriggling eyebrows mocked me suggestively.

I was hoping she wouldn't put two and two together, but I now I had to explain before she jumped to conclusions. God knows Penelope can only keep a secret for so long.

* * *

 **That's all for chapter 6! It was short, I know, but there is a lot more to come. There will be a lot of drama going down in just a few chapters, so please stick around. Also, as the romantic relationship begins, the story will have to eventually be changed to M if you know what I mean, so I'm just giving you a heads up. Can't have a story with serial killers and sexy doctors without it being a little** **risqué. Please don't forget to review, and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!**


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